


My Door's Always Open

by OpalizedBone



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adoribull - Freeform, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Canon Dialogue, Canon Gay Relationship, First Time, Gay Sex, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Size Difference, Size Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-06
Updated: 2018-03-06
Packaged: 2019-03-27 17:59:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13886130
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OpalizedBone/pseuds/OpalizedBone
Summary: The Iron Bull is loud and brash and annoying, and definitely not attractive in any way. Dorian is most certainly not entertaining the idea of sleeping with the great brute, even if he's stupidly tall and annoyingly charming. Well, maybe he is entertaining the idea. A little bit.~I was inspired by the in-game dialogue between the Bull and Dorian; there's some really good lines in there! Just another first-time fic based on the in-game dialogue with lots of pornEDITED 03/23/18





	My Door's Always Open

**Author's Note:**

> if you're just here for the porn, it starts a liiiitle after halfway down c:

The first qunari Dorian meets is Adaar. She hardly counts, in Dorian’s mind: she doesn’t follow the Qun—has never even _read_ it, as far as he knows—and she’s as open about liking women as he is about liking men. Sure, she’s tall, broad-shouldered, horned—but she’s _nothing_ like the Iron Bull.

 

The Iron Bull is everything Dorian expects from a Qunari. He’s brash, loud-mouthed, intimidating. Not afraid to speak his mind, open about who he beds, the Iron Bull is as confident as Dorian pretends to be.

 

The first time Dorian meets the Iron Bull, he has to hold back a gasp. He’d never seen someone so _large,_ and those _horns..._ Dorian couldn’t help himself; the part of him that wasn’t cowering in fear was nearly frothing at the mouth. Not that he’d ever let the beast know that, of course.

 

“So you’re Dorian Pavus,” the Qunari starts. They’re standing in Skyhold’s courtyard; Adaar had been introducing him to the important people of the Inquisition, and now she stands to one side as the Iron Bull and Dorian size each other up. “A Tevinter mage. Gotta say, Boss, I’m surprised you let this one join.”

 

“I’ll have you know that I am perfectly capable of choosing my own alliances,” Dorian snapped. He still didn’t even know the brute’s name, and already he was arguing with him.

 

“So you’ve got some fire in you!” the Qunari chuckled. “I like that. I’m the Iron Bull. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

 

Dorian stared at the Iron Bull for a moment, mouth agape, before recovering.

 

“Likewise,” he said dryly, and turned on his heel to march back up to his room, trying desperately to ignore the deep laughter he heard behind him. He doesn’t look back, and the next time they’re within earshot of each other is when Adaar takes the both of them out on an expedition.

 

Their bickering is worse when they’re out with Adaar and Varric, unable to get away from each other.

 

They’re fighting a bunch of Venatori soldiers when Dorian’s frustration boils over.

 

“We have a Ben-Hassrath with us!  A spy. An actual Qunari spy,” he spits, sending a soldier tumbling with a bolt of lighting. “That doesn’t strike _anyone_ as a bad thing?”

 

“Says the Vint. When we’re fighting Vints,” the Iron Bull calls back, splitting a soldier nearly in two with his axe. Dorian pauses, surprised that the Qunari is bothering to reply.

 

“That’s...not a terrible point,” Dorian replies. “Okay.”

 

Dorian is loathe to admit that after that, their bickering devolves into barely-disguised flirting.

 

~

 

“I hope it doesn't bother you to travel alongside a Vint, Iron Bull,” Dorian pipes up one day as they travel through the Emerald Graves.

  
“That what you are? You people all kinda look the same to me,” the Iron Bull teases, turning to look at him.

  
“I'm also a mage. Would you prefer me bound and leashed?” Dorian quips back.

  
“I'd buy you dinner first.” The Iron Bull is grinning now, and Adaar has ventured farther ahead with Sera, the two of them having their own, much more obvious flirting session.

  
“Hopefully before you sewed my mouth shut,” Dorian sniffs, because even if the Iron Bull is stupidly tall and annoyingly attractive, he’d never let him _know_ that.

  
“Depends how much you keep yapping,” Bull threatens, but he’s still smiling and there’s no heat in his voice.

 

Dorian makes a small sound somewhere between a grunt and a hum, and they move on.

 

~

 

Dorian is still slightly mistrustful of the Bull, that much is true, and it comes out during their strange bickering, flirting, whatever you want to call it.

 

“Nothing at all, Bull? No problem having a Vint behind you?” he asks, trudging along behind the Qunari and eyeing his backside openly.

  
The Iron Bull, damn him, seems to know this, and throws back over his shoulder, “Hope you like the view.”

  
Dorian bristles, and sneers at his broad back.

 

“You can't deny you enjoy butchering my people,” he glares.

  
“Hey, butchering implies I'm gonna eat 'em. Most Vints are just gristle and fat in a red wine marinade,” the Iron Bull teases, immediately lightening the mood once more. Dorian nearly laughs.

  
“Well, that much is true.”

 

~

Their bickering loses its edge after a few weeks, much to Dorian’s chagrin.

 

“Nice work with the magic back there, Dorian. You're pretty good at blowing guys up,” the Iron Bull compliments him, wiping his axe off on the trousers of a fallen bandit.

  
“It's significantly more impressive than hitting them with a sharp piece of metal,” Dorian replies, preening. The Iron Bull smiles, eyeing him openly.

  
“Hey, whoa, let's not get crazy,” he says.

 

“Watch where you're pointing that thing!” Dorian snaps, jumping out of the way of the Iron Bull’s axe.

“Dirty.” The Iron Bull grins, cocking his hips.

 

“Vishante kaffas!” Dorian rolls his eyes, “I meant your weapon!”

 

~

 

The first time Dorian and the Iron Bull are near each other other than the quests with Adaar, Dorian had gone down to the tavern for a drink.

 

Dorian sits by himself at the bar, nursing his mug of absolutely _horrid_ Fereldan ale. He can hear Bull and his chargers clearly, being their usual rowdy selves. They’re telling tales of past lovers, of all things, loud enough for the entire bloody tavern to hear them. Krem is in the middle of his story, something about a little blonde maid, and Dorian is trying desperately to ignore him.

 

“But what about you, boss?” Krem finishes his story, and Dorian’s ears perk up.

 

“Ah, you’ve heard them all before,” the Iron Bull says.

 

“Come on, boss!” someone else--Skinner, maybe--wheedles. “Give us a new one.”

 

“There won’t be a new one unless that pretty Vint loosens up a little,” the Bull replies, and Dorian stands up so fast his stool topples over. To his horror, he can feel the heat in his face, and knows he’s redder than a tomato. He flees the tavern, heading straight to his room, and collapses on his bed.

 

For whatever reason, Dorian hadn’t thought the Bull was _serious_ when he flirted with him. After all, Bull acted that way with nearly everyone, regardless of gender or race--he’d always assumed their flirting was simply a way to pass the time out on the road. The idea that the Bull was actually interested in him sent warmth sliding down his spine to pool in his gut.

 

For the first time, Dorian allows himself to truly fantasize about the Bull. He must be huge, Dorian thinks, with how tall and broad he is. Certainly bigger than any human man he’d been with. The thought had his cock twitching.

 

Sitting up, Dorian quickly divests himself of his clothes, reaches into his bedside table, and retrieves the small bottle of oil he keeps there. He settles back into his pillows and allows himself to think of the Bull, his smart mouth, those horns that’d be perfect for holding onto. His slick hands feel simultaneously too good and not enough on his aching cock. He wishes that it was the Bull, his fingers, his lips and tongue...

 

He comes embarrasingly fast, the Bull’s name on his lips.

 

~

 

It takes Dorian days to work up the courage to go back to the tavern for another drink, and when he does, the Iron Bull’s remaining eye immediately meets his. Dorian feels himself flush, and sees the smirk on the Bull’s face before he tears his gaze away.

 

He sits down at the bar, ordering himself a pint, and tries to ignore the Bull and his chargers. It’s hard to do so when they’re as loud and rambunctious as ever, and--Maker help him-- _Adaar_ is there, too, drinking and chatting and being as loud as the rest of them. She’s telling a story about some bandits that were stupid enough to challenge her, and the chargers are being the perfect audience--gasping and laughing at all the right moments.

 

Dorian can’t help but listen in as he drinks, grinning slightly; Adaar is a good storyteller, and the tale is entertaining. He downs his first drink quickly and orders another as he listens.

 

“Hey, Dorian!” he suddenly hears Adaar call. His head jerks up reflexively, and he silently curses to himself. “Come join us, you look lonely over there.”

 

Normally, he’d jump at the chance to have a few quiet drinks with Adaar. Conversations with the Inquisitor are always pleasant, and he considers her his closest friend at Skyhold. Now, however, she was seated across from the Iron Bull, and he had no doubt that his Ben-Hassrath training would make it all too easy for the Bull to sense that something was up.

 

But he’s already met Adaar’s eye, and he can’t refuse her offer without being inexorably rude, so he stands up and relocates himself. The only open spot is right next to the Bull, _of course,_ but he slides onto the bench with only the smallest hesitation.

 

“Hey, there, Vint,” Bull greets him amicably, grinning down at him and nudging him with one elbow. Dorian rolls his eyes and pretends to be offended.

 

“Try not to mess up my clothing too much, thank you,” Dorian sniffs, adjusting the sleeve that Bull had ruffled slightly.

 

“Hmm,” the Bull looks him over, “In that case, you’ll have to take those off yourself, whenever we get around to doing anything more than talking.”

 

“I _beg_ your pardon?!” Dorian splutters, nearly choking on his drink.

 

“We’ll see,” the Bull laughs easily, and goes back to joking and talking with his chargers.

 

Dorian stews angrily, drinking his way through several more mugs of ale, and tries not to let his attraction to the Bull show.

 

~

 

Dorian, the Bull, Adaar, and Varric are somewhere in the hissing wastes, having just dispatched of some bandits. The Iron Bull was standing at the ready, looking around for more bandits, and Dorian was growing irritated, or maybe antsy. Or something, anyways. He’s staring at the Bull when the Qunari suddenly catches his gaze.

 

“Quite the stink-eye you've got going, Dorian,” the Bull points out, straightening up and shouldering his axe. Dorian’s sure he’s tensing his biceps on purpose.

  
“You stand there, flexing your muscles, huffing like some beast of burden with no thought save conquest.” Dorian meant it as a jab, but he’s still breathless from the fight and it comes out more awed than anything else.

  
“That's right,” the Bull grinned, “These big muscled hands could tear those robes off while you struggled, helpless in my grip.” He stalks closer, and Dorian gulps, staring up at the Bull. “I'd pin you down, and as you gripped my horns; I. Would. Conquer. You.”

  
Dorian is dazed, his back pressed up against a boulder, the Bull pinning him in, and his words have all but abandoned him. “Uh. What?”

  
“Oh. Is that not where we're going?” Bull quirks an eyebrow, backing off slightly, but he’s grinning.

  
Dorian recovers enough to scrape together his words. “No. It was very much not.”

 

Of course, the picture Bull’s words paint doesn’t leave his head very easily, and to his horror, he realizes his cock is beginning to harden. Brushing past the Bull, he marches ahead, following Adaar to the camp. He can feel the Bull’s gaze on him to whole way.

 

~

 

Later that trip, as they’re heading back to Skyhold, the Bull falls into step beside him. Adaar is up ahead, talking to Varric, and they’re well out of earshot of the others. Dorian looks up at Bull from the corner of his eyes.

 

“Yes?” Dorian prompts, when the Bull just watches him.

 

“Well,” the Bull starts, “I'm just saying, Dorian. You have this picture of the Qunari in your mind. Like you see us as this forbidden, terrible thing, and you're inclined to do the forbidden…”

 

Dorian stares at him.

  
“I have no idea what you're talking about.”

  
“All I'm saying is, you ever want to explore that, my door's always open,” the Bull shrugs his massive shoulders.

  
Understanding dawns on Dorian, and he scowls. “You are impossible! This is…” His words fail him, and he nearly growls, stomping on ahead of the Bull.

  
“Good! I like that energy. Stoke those fires, big guy,” the Bull calls. Dorian ignores him for the rest of the journey back to Skyhold.

~

 

Dorian is reading in his nook in Skyhold’s library when Adaar finds him.

 

“Hey, Dorian,” Adaar greets him, and he looks up, marking his place in his book before closing it.

 

“Hello, Inquisitor,” he inclines his head. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

 

“I was just heading down to the tavern, thought you’d like to join me,” Addar says, shrugging her broad shoulders. She’s tall enough to have to crouch to get through some doorways, and now she leans against the wall, slouching slightly to keep her horns from scraping the arched doorway of his nook. Dorian’s mind immediately flashes to the Bull; he’s much bigger than Adaar--he’d barely be able to fit in the nook with Dorian. He’d have to crowd into his space, the warmth of his body pressed against him, the scent of his skin filling Dorian’s nose...he shook his head to get rid of those pesky thoughts.

 

“Ah…” Dorian begins, preening his mustache. “Is this invitation for only the two of us? Or shall we be accompanying the chargers again?”

 

Adaar smirks at him, raising one white eyebrow.

 

“I’m sure Bull won’t mind us joining them again, if that’s what you want,” Adaar says casually, and Dorian curses to himself; he’s not normally so transparent.

 

“Well, I won’t say no to a couple drinks, at the least,” Dorian says, standing up and stretching. Adaar smiles, and they go down to the tavern together, ignoring Mother Giselle’s look of disapproval.

 

When they enter the tavern, they see Sera sitting with the Bull and his chargers. Adaar’s face immediately lights up at the sight of the elf, and she makes a beeline for their table, leaving Dorian to either awkwardly slink away to sit alone or follow her. He chooses the latter, and sits once more next to the Bull, while Adaar slides in close to Sera.

 

“Oi, honey-tongue!” Sera greets Adaar, pressing her face into the qunari’s shoulder. Dorian can tell, even from across the table, that the elf is well on her way to being drunk. In fact, most of the table is some form of inebriated or another; most of the chargers are grinning happily, and the Bull is taking a long draught out of a frankly enormous mug.

 

“Hello,” Adaar murmurs, leaning down to plant a kiss on Sera’s blonde head. She giggles, pushing Adaar’s face away in a way that’s clearly meant to encourage.

 

Dorian looks away from the two and catches the eye of a server, from whom he orders a pitcher of ale for Adaar and himself.

 

“Hey there, Vint,” the Bull says, setting down his nearly-empty mug. Dorian feels himself flush slightly at his proximity, barely a few inches away.

 

“Hi,” he murmurs, gratefully accepting a mug from the server and pouring himself a tall glass of ale.  He can feel the Bull’s eye on him as he takes a few hearty swigs, licking his lips and meeting his gaze.

 

The Bull’s eye darts to Dorian’s mouth, and a soft growl rises in the Qunari’s chest. Dorian’s cheeks warm slightly, and he smirks a bit, turning to listen to a story that Krem was telling. He’s hyper aware of the Bull watching him as he allows himself to drink and talk and laugh with everyone else, the burn of his gaze on his skin.

 

The evening passes quickly as the group drinks their way through several mugs of ale each, their stories growing longer and more rambling as they get more inebriated. Dorian finds himself letting go more than he can remember ever doing, and having one of the most pleasant nights he can remember.

 

As the night wears on, Dorian begins to lower his inhibitions. He scoots closer to the Bull, and even allows himself to lay one hand on his thick thigh. He can feel the muscle there twitch and stiffen, can feel the burning gaze on his face. He turns to catch the Bull’s eye, and raises one manicured eyebrow, biting his lower lip suggestively. He’s pleasantly buzzed but not drunk, able to do things he might not normally be brave enough to.

 

Stretching up, he beckons the Bull down and whispers into one pointed ear.

 

“You mentioned before that your door is ‘always open,’” Dorian murmurs. “Is that offer still on the table?”

 

Sinking back down, he grins slightly at the Bull, whose lone eye is dancing with interest. The Qunari looks him up and down carefully, gauging his sobriety, perhaps, and then one huge hand settles on his lower back. Bull leans down, crowding into Dorian’s space, and a thrill goes up his spine.

 

“Most definitely, Vint,” the Iron Bull nearly growls into his ear. Dorian feels the warmth of Bull’s breath on his neck, and it slips down his spine to pool in his gut. Anticipation has his cock beginning to stir, and he stands up, dragging Bull with him.

 

Adaar looks up when the two stand up, but Sera is now straddling her lap and she’s quite obviously distracted.

 

“See you tomorrow, boys,” Bull says, giving a jaunty wave. Dorian flushes slightly, but just tips his head and walks out, still holding onto the Bull’s hand. He’s in awe of the size of it, each finger at least two of his own. He can’t help but imagine how they’d feel inside him, stretching him open so deliciously…

 

“Your room?” Dorian says breathlessly as soon as they’re out of the tavern. Bull nods and takes the lead.

 

As soon as the heavy wooden door swings closed, the Bull has Dorian pressed up against it, crowding as close as he can. Dorian is dwarfed by the Bull, and another shudder thrills through him.

 

“You sure about this?” the Bull asks, his hands planted against the wood on either side of Dorian’s head. His face is mere inches from Dorian’s, breath brushing his cheek. His own hands are pressed against the door as well, but now he slides them up to the Bull’s chest, caressing thick grey skin.

 

“I’m sure,” Dorian breathes, and sees the Bull’s eye darken with lust.

 

“Do you have a watchword?” the Qunari asks, leaning down to nose along Dorian’s throat. A warm tongue dragged along his jaw, scattering his thoughts, and a small groan leaves his throat. He grabs at Bull’s shoulders, pulling him closer.

 

“Mm…” Dorian murmurs, already having forgotten Bull’s question. “What?”

 

“A watchword,” Bull says, pulling back to allow Dorian a moment to collect his train of thought.

 

“Ah, no,” Dorian replies, running his hands over the Bull’s chest. That harness really is ridiculous; he begins to fiddle with the buckle, impatient to continue.

 

The Bull’s huge hands capture his own, pinning them to the door above his head. Dorian’s breath catches in his throat, and he meets the Bull’s steady gaze.

 

“Listen to me,” the Bull says, and Dorian nods, hanging on every word. His voice is so deep that Dorian can feel it in his chest. “If I do something you don’t like, or you change your mind, or even just need a break, say _katoh._ Okay?”

 

“Alright,” Dorian agrees. Like that’s going to happen.

 

“Say it,” the Bull commands, and the deep rumble of his voice goes straight to Dorian’s cock.

 

“Katoh,” Dorian repeats, watching as the Bull grins in satisfaction.

 

“Good,” Bull praises, and leans in and finally, _finally_ kisses him.

 

The slide of lips on lips is perfect, hot and hungry. The Bull releases his hands and immediately Dorian winds them around his neck, scratching at the back of his scalp. He whines slightly as the Bull threads one huge hand into his hair, biting his lower lip with a soft growl.

 

Bull crowds Dorian against the door, slipping his tongue along his lower lip. As they break apart for air, Bull relocates to his neck. A hot mouth and perfect suction has Dorian crying out slightly, his cock hardening almost embarrassingly fast--but he can feel Bull’s length pressed against his belly, and takes solace in the fact he’s not the only one.

 

“B-bed?” Dorian manages to ask as he feels sharp teeth against the side of his neck. He grabs the Bull’s horns with a gasp as the Qunari picks him up effortlessly, wrapping his legs around his thick waist. The Bull captures his lips again as he carries Dorian across the room and deposits him gently on the bed, where Dorian stretches like a satisfied cat, smirking and pulling on the Bull’s horns to entice him down over him. The Bull crawls over Dorian, covering him entirely with his bulk, and kisses along his throat.

 

Dorian gasps, arching his back to feel more of that hot skin over his own. He can feel the Bull’s half-hard length against his thighs, and he’s frankly in awe of the size of it. He can’t wait to feel it inside him. Then the Bull is kissing him again and he forgets everything except the Bull’s name.

 

The Bull pulls back with another bite to his lower lip, turning his attention to the many straps and buckles of Dorian’s outfit. Dorian’s impatient, and bats his hands away.

 

“Let me, it’ll be faster,” he pants, sitting up and beginning to undress with practiced ease. The Bull backs up to give him room, working his harness free and dropping it on the floor. Dorian pauses to take in the full expanse of the Bull’s chest for the first time, licking his lips, before resuming his unbuckling.

 

The Bulls stands up, shucking his boots and then grabbing Dorian’s, and by the time they’re both without shoes, Dorian is finally pulling his tunic off, tossing it over the back of the Bull’s desk chair. He starts on his pants, but his head jerks up when he hears a soft growl from the Bull.

 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” Bull murmurs, raking his gaze over Dorian’s torso, his eye so hungry Dorian shivers, feels his cock harden further. The Bull drops one hand to his own cock, palming the length through those hideous pants. “Your pants, too.”

 

Dorian feels himself blush as he watches the Bull touch himself, his own breathing growing heavier. With a quick nod, he works his pants loose and begins to shimmy them off his hips--but the Bull is suddenly there, pushing him flat against the bed and pulling the pants off himself. His hot mouth closes over Dorian’s shoulder, sucking and licking, and Dorian gasps in surprise, grabbing onto his horns.

 

He doesn’t realize the Bull is fully naked, too, until he climbs back over Dorian, straddling his legs and pinning him to the bed with his huge form. His length rubs against Dorian’s, and he moans, arching up to get more friction.

 

“Mhm, I do hope you have oil,” Dorian gasps as the Bull rocks his hips, letting their cocks slide against each other. Maker, he feels _enormous._

 

“Yeah,” the Bull pulls away from his neck to answer, leaning over to his bedside table and retrieving a bottle. He sets it in the sheets to one side, going back to suck hard at the other side of Dorian’s neck. He’s going to have bruises, Dorian realizes, and feels a little thrill go through him at the thought of bearing the Bull’s marks.

 

Bull works his way down Dorian’s chest, sucking and biting his smooth dark skin, and Dorian whines, gripping the Qunari’s horns tight.

 

“Hmm, Bull,” Dorian groans as Bull finally laps over one hardened nipple. Bull growls in response, gripping one of Dorian’s hips in a bruising hold. Dorian arches, his moan growing louder at the rough treatment, and the Bull notices, biting his nipple for a moment. Dorian gasps richly; the Bull files that response away for later.

 

“You’re so good, Dorian,” the Bull pulls away to whisper, and Dorian whines, his words going straight to his cock; he’s hard and aching, a drop of fluid already pearled at the tip. The Bull flicks his tongue over his other nipple before biting his way down.

 

Dorian watches with heavy eyes as the Bull looks up at him, curling those huge fingers around his thighs.

 

“Gonna suck you off now, gorgeous,” Bull tells him, “That okay?”

 

“Maker, _yes,_ ” Dorian groans, rubbing his fingers over the base of the Bull’s horns. “Fuck.”

 

The Bull grins at him for just a moment before dragging his tongue from base to tip. Dorian lets a frankly undignified noise fall from his mouth as his head drops back. The Bull’s hot mouth closes over the tip of his dick, and Dorian fucking _keens,_ bucking his hips to chase that incredible sensation.

 

Bull’s mouth is hot and wet and _tight_ as he bobs his head, sucking more of Dorian in with every pass, and Dorian is already a shuddering mess, rocking his hips up to the Bull’s face. Before he knows it, Bull’s taken him all the way to the root, and Dorian’s not a small man. Then again, Bull _is_ a Qunari.

 

The sensations are causing heat to pool at the base of Dorian’s spine, and he drops his hands to grip the sheets tightly, crying out. Bull pulls back to swirl his tongue around the tip, sucking the precome from his slit, and Dorian nearly sees stars.

 

“Vishante kaffas!” Dorian gasps, trying to control himself. Bull pulls away, and he nearly sobs as the cool air of the room replaces Bull’s hot mouth. “Bull!”

 

“Hang on, big guy,” Bull soothes him, retrieving the bottle of oil from the sheets. “Wanna finger you, too.” Dorian gapes at him, dick twitching.

 

“Well, hurry up then, you great brute,” he says, but there’s no bite to his voice and it comes out more of a whine.

 

“So impatient,” the Bull chuckles, slicking up his fingers liberally. He resettles himself between Dorian’s spread thighs, taking his cock right back into his mouth. Dorian gasps.

 

As the Bull sucks him into his mouth, lips tight around the base of his cock, he circles his ass with one finger, spreading the oil, before beginning to press in.

 

“Maker’s breath!” Dorian swears as it breaches him, arching up at the delicious stretch. “Is that just one?” He feels the Bull nod slightly around his dick. “Fuck!”

 

The Bull pulls back, sliding his finger in nice and slow.

 

“That okay?” Bull asks, and Dorian nods so fast it’s nearly comical.

 

“Vishante kaffas, fuck, yes, Bull,” Dorian babbles, rocking his hips down to take more. The Bull grins and begins to pump his finger in and out, leaning down to suck on the tip Dorian’s cock once more. Dorian cries out, rolling his hips and grabbing the sheets. “Another, Bull, fuck, please!”

 

The Bull thrusts his finger a few more times before slowly pressing a second one inside, scissoring him open, making Dorian cry out.

 

“Fuck, yes, I’m close,” Dorian gasps, rolling his hips, not even caring how fast he’s about to cum or how desperate he sounds. Bull crooks his fingers, brushing over his prostate, and Dorian’s whole body jerks. “Vishante kaffas!”

 

The Bull takes him wholly into his mouth once more, bobbing his head in time with the thrusting of his fingers, now hitting his prostate on each push, and Dorian _wails,_ feeling himself clench up as he nears the edge. He looks down and sees the Bull’s one eye focused on him with such intensity, it nearly topples him over the edge.

 

A few more thrusts, and suddenly Dorian’s cumming, his whole world going white as he empties himself in the Bull’s mouth, who keeps rocking his fingers, swallowing down Dorian’s cum with a greedy moan. Dorian cries out something that could be the Bull’s name as he finishes, rolling his hips shallowly to chase the sensations.

 

Finally, Dorian slumps back against the sheets, panting and sweaty. He’s sure he’s a mess, makeup smudged, hair dishevelled, but he really can’t find it in himself to care just at the moment. He watches with bleary eyes as the Bull sits up and wipes his mouth with the back of one hand. He’s fully hard now, and _huge;_ Dorian eyes his cock with a mix of apprehension and excitement.

 

“That was...incredible,” Dorian croaks when he can speak again. The Bull hums, crawling over him to kiss him, and Dorian can taste himself on Bull’s lips. How delightfully crude.

 

“You done already, big guy?” the Bull asks, pulling back to study him. His eye lingers on Dorian’s throat, and he’s sure he has bruises.

 

“Kaffas, no,” Dorian protests. “I won’t be done until you’ve emptied yourself inside me, you great ox.”

 

“I can do that,” Bull growls, sending a shiver down Dorian’s spine. “You ready?”

 

Dorian’s loose and pliant after his orgasm, boneless on the sheets, and eager as could be, but hesitates as he glances down at Bull’s impressive girth.

 

“A bit more prep, first,” Bull reads his mind, sitting back on his knees to coat his fingers in oil once more. “Get you nice and ready, gorgeous.”

 

Dorian moans as Bull presses one, then two oil-slicked fingers inside him, twisting and scissoring them to open him up. Dorian hooks his hands behind his knees, opening himself wider to the Bull, who growls in appreciation.

 

“So fucking pretty,” the Bull grunts, eye roaming over Dorian’s flushed, sweaty skin. He turns his head to the side, muffling his moaning onto the pillow, before the Bull grabs his chin, pulling him around to look at him. “Want to see your gorgeous face.”

 

Dorian whines, his softened cock beginning to harden again under the Bull’s attention.

 

“You ready for a third?” Bull asks after a bit, leaning down to kiss along his chest.

 

“Fuck, yes,” Dorian groans. A third finger presses in, and Dorian keens; he’s so deliciously _full,_ his ass stretched around three of Bull’s huge fingers; if he hadn’t just come, he’d be doing so now.

 

“Fuck,” the Bull echoes, biting his nipple, and Dorian cries out. The Bull flutters his fingers against Dorian’s prostate, and his whole body jerks, prick trying to revive as fast as it can.

 

Pleasure burns in Dorian’s spine, the feeling of the Bull’s fingers is sublime, and he wants the Bull so badly now that it nearly hurts.

 

“Bull, I need you, please,” Dorian begs, reaching for him. Bull curses, pulling the stopper out of the oil bottle with his teeth and spreading it over his cock with his free hand, still thrusting his fingers into Dorian’s ass. When he’s nice and slick, he pulls his fingers out and replaces them with the head of his cock, using his hands on either side of Dorian to balance himself.

 

“You ready, gorgeous?” the Bull breathes, and Dorian nods, grabbing onto those horns once more for support.

 

“Yes, fuck,” Dorian groans, and the Bull uses one hand to guide himself in.

 

The blunt head of the Bull’s cock breaches him, and they both freeze. He’s so big, Dorian feels wrecked and close already and it’s only the head.

 

“You okay?” Bull asks, leaning down to kiss him. He’s trembling, and Dorian realizes he has yet to cum tonight.

 

“Kaffas,” Dorian groans, forcing himself to relax, “Yes, I’m good, just--move, Bull, please.”

 

“Fuck,” the Bull answers, beginning to push inside nice and slow, all slick heat and delicious pressure.  Dorian moans long and low as the Bull slides in, and he prepped him thoroughly but he’s just so _big_ and Dorian is panting, making little wrecked noises in his throat.

 

And then, impossibly, the Bull is fully inside him, balls snug against his ass, and Dorian lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. The Bull is bigger than anything he’s had inside him, and he’s pressing against his prostate and leaning down to suck his throat and his skin is so hot and Dorian is in _heaven._

 

“Fuck, Bull,” whines Dorian, wrapping his arms around his neck to scratch at his sweaty back. “ _Move.”_

The Iron Bull nods against his throat and begins to rock his hips, fucking him deep and slow. Dorian moans richly, turning his face to bite and suck at the Bull’s neck. His cock is rapidly growing hard again, rubbing against the Bull’s stomach, and each thrust is perfect, pleasure humming in his veins.

 

Bull grunts at the apex of each thrust, each one a little easier than the last, oil and the Bull’s precome easing the way, and soon enough Dorian is howling. The Bull is hitting his prostate on each pass, and his own cock is rutting along the Bull’s stomach, and everything is fucking perfect.

 

“Fuck, fuck, kaffas, fuck!” Dorian gasps, and the Bull sits up, grabbing his thighs and pushing them up to his chest. Dorian’s hands slip from around the Bull’s neck, and one goes to his cock as the other grabs the sheets, but then the Bull catches his hand and pulls it away.

 

“Wanna see you cum just like this,” he rumbles, “Wanna see you cum just from my cock inside you.” Dorian nearly growls, gripping the sheets tightly. His displeasure is forgotten with the next thrust, one deeper and harder than the others, and he cries out.

 

“Kaffas, yes, Bull!” he cries, arching his back. The Bull readjusts his grip on Dorian’s thighs and picks up the pace, his hips slapping against Dorian’s ass each time. Dorian cries out with each one, his head tipped back and eyes squeezed shut. He’s never felt this good in his life; the pleasure is a burning coil low in his belly, hot and tight and he’s so close.

 

“I can feel you clenching, Dorian,” the Bull growls. “You getting close? Gonna cum for me?”

 

“Vishante kaffas, _yes!_ ” Dorian nearly sobs, feeling his whole body vibrate in anticipation, “I’m so close, Bull, please!”

 

The Bull releases his thighs, grabbing his hips with bruising fingers, and Dorian yells in ecstasy. Bull pounds into him, hitting his prostate and drawing a high-pitching moan each time.

 

“Gonna cum inside you, baby,” the Bull grunts, and Dorian nods frantically, his skin burning.

 

“Yes, fuck, yes,” Dorian cries, feeling himself nearing the edge. The Bull slows down, each thrust dragging the flared head of his cock over that spot inside him, and Dorian is seeing stars.

 

“Fuck, Dorian!” the Bull groans, “‘M gonna cum.”

 

“Me too, me too, fuck--!” Dorian babbles, and then he’s cumming, clenching around the Bull’s pistoning cock, shooting thick ropes over his own chest. He cries out, back arching as he cums, stars exploding behind closed eyelids. He’s floating, his entire body shuddering and twitching as he cums harder than he can ever remember. He empties everything he has over his stomach, painting his dark skin with stripes of white.

 

The Bull slams into him another few times before stilling with a long groan, emptying himself inside of Dorian, and there’s so _much;_ Dorian whines low in his throat. He can feel the Bull’s cock twitching inside of him, so deep and so _good_ as cum drips out of his ass, sliding down to pool in the sheets.

 

Dorian’s panting, flushed and sweaty, as he slowly comes back to himself. He feels the Bull slip his softening cock out of him and whines, already missing that full feeling. More cum rushes out of him to add to the puddle soaking into the sheets.

 

Bull gets up, and a moment later, a wet cloth is wiping him down, swiping his cum from his chest and gently cleaning between his cheeks. He sighs in contentment.

 

“That was amazing,” Dorian sighs as the Bull gets into bed with him, hooking a huge arm over him and pulling him tight against him, away from the wet spot on the sheets. Dorian’s drifting in the afterglow, trying to fight off sleep.

 

“That was,” the Bull agrees, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Dorian turns to kiss him again; the Bull is an _excellent_ kisser, and he could probably kiss him for hours.

 

“If you’ll just give me a minute, I’ll be on my way,” Dorian murmurs, yawning and stretching. “I don’t mean to be a burden.”

 

“You’re welcome to stay,” the Bull tells him, holding him closer. “It’s late.”

 

“I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” Dorian protests, cracking open one eye to look at the Bull, who’s already falling asleep.

 

“You’re not,” the Bull insists, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t want you to stay.”

 

“Well...If you’re sure,” Dorian concedes; the Bull is warm and comfortable, and he doesn’t fancy having to get dressed again and trudge across the courtyard to his own room. He tries not to think about what people will think if they see him leaving the Bull’s room in the morning, deciding that was a worry for another time.

 

Dorian is happy for the first time in a long time as he lets the afterglow lull him to sleep, curling up against the Bull, who draws the blankets up around them. Dorian extinguishes the torches on the wall with a wave of his hand before settling down against the Bull with a contented sigh.


End file.
